


Shadows of the Past

by Pyreite



Series: To Fall and Rise [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, F/M, Magic, Not Trespasser DLC Compliant, Somniari, Spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreite/pseuds/Pyreite
Summary: Ellana spends a pleasant night under the stars with her sentinels, until she shares news of a dream featuring a crystal city, two thrones, and a man that isn't Solas.  A shadow from Mythal's past is returning to fulfill a promise sworn five thousand years ago in ancient Arlathan.  Ellana is in more danger than she realises, and she'll need help from the one person in Thedas she hates the most in order to survive it.Sequel to: The Vagrant





	Shadows of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited.

Ellana stretched out on her bedroll beside the fire. She’d abandoned the tent in favour of sleeping under the stars (much to the disapproval of her guards). Abelas was smiling when she waved away Valoya. She shook her head, refusing to take the extra blanket in the sentinel’s arms. Ellana pretended not to see Valoya’s frowning face as she cast another log into the fire.

Her stack of wood could have fuelled a week’s worth of campfires. Another sentinel (in her gaggle of Elvhen ducklings) had been overzealous. Valoya was doting on her too. From Abelas such concern for her well-being was comforting. Five hundred years of mutual familiarity had made him first her friend and then her lover. 

His fellow sentinel elves were complete strangers. Their attentiveness unnerved Ellana. They all tried (except for Abelas) to anticipate her needs. The small mountain of wood beside the campfire was but one example of their eagerness to please. Valoya, with an extra blanket in hand, hadn’t budged an inch despite her refusal.

Ellana cast a pleading look across their camp to the one person she loved and trusted. Abelas grinned with a flash of white teeth, his golden eyes twinkling. She heard his husky chuckle when Valoya called her by that dreaded title. The simple elvish word (adored by elven children all over Thedas) made Ellana blush. Valoya said it again while trying hard not to look like a fussy mother-hen.

“Mamae”.

Ellana was red-faced with embarrassment. She took a slender stick from her stack of wood and stirred the fire’s glowing embers. Anything was better than looking that poor patient woman in the eye. Ellana groaned in annoyance when she sensed Valoya’s bitter disappointment. The magical bond binding her and the sentinel elves together was often like a river.

She felt their emotions, great and small, flit back and forth like glittering silver fish. The flash of a fin in the sun or the flick of a tail against the current told her more in an instant than the spoken word. Valoya’s disappointment was a sour heavy thing reminiscent of a lemon crushed by a stone. Ellana could almost taste the citrus on her tongue. It was perturbing to sense how Valoya felt and to know its cause without a word exchanged between them. 

The desperation in her voice was telling too.

“Mamae”, repeated Valoya with a disapproving scowl on her face. “You will be cold if you sleep outside”.

A nod to the tent erected for her use made the sentinel’s point clear.

Ellana gazed into the fire. She watched her stick blacken and burn, its bark smoking. She let it fall atop the embers. It was alight in a heartbeat, engulfed from root to tip in dancing red-gold flames. Ellana wondered if she had inherited something else from Flemeth and Morrigan too. 

Both of her predecessors had taken the form of a High Dragon. She thought on shape-shifting magic as she countered Valoya’s argument.

“It’s spring. Which means warm weather day and night. I’m not going to catch a chill if I sleep under the stars unless it rains”.

She gestured to the sky overhead. The clouds shone like white foam on a dusky-blue sea. Evening was a few hours off even if the moon was high. Only in the wilderness outside the city walls of New Arlathan could she see the stars. The veil-fire torches lining the city streets often blazed brighter.

“I’ll be fine”, Ellana assured her worried sentinel. “You needn’t worry. If I do get cold. Abelas would volunteer to keep me warm. So I’d spend the night warm and toasty regardless of the precautions you insist I take”.

She didn’t need to see Valoya’s expression to know how she felt. The sentinel bond sizzled with her frustration. Ellana rolled her eyes when the woman bellowed like an enraged druffalo.

“Abelas! She is being unreasonable! Do something!”

She heard a round of snickering and sensed the sparks of amusement from the rest of the sentinel elves. Abelas too, glowing like an iron brand stoked long in the fire, was smiling from ear to ear. He didn’t move from his seat across the campfire. The log on which he sat was shared by two other sentinels. One of them was Valoya’s brusque husband Ilcen.

One look from the redhead made Abelas grin. He gestured to his friend’s irritable wife. Ilcen grimaced as he exhaled a sigh of resignation. He nodded, brows furrowing. He loved Valoya with all his heart, but sometimes she could be a little overbearing.

“Leave her be, ma vhenan”, he chided. “Ellana is not a child. If she wants to sleep under the stars, it is not for you to tell her otherwise”. Ilcen nudged Abelas in the ribs. “Stop laughing at my wife. I know she is stubborn, but she means well even when she calls on you to mediate their arguments”.

“We are not arguing!” insisted Valoya. “We have a difference of opinion! That is all!”

Ellana did look at her this time. Her arched brows and wide eyes seemed to contradict the sentinel’s claim. Valoya reddened when the third sentinel sharing a seat with Abelas chortled. His joy flooded the sentinel bond. Ellana couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

His delight was warm as sunlight and sweet as wild honey.

She snorted.

Valoya glared.

And he laughed when Ellana smiled from ear to ear, her cheeks dimpling.

“Mythal’s heir is not so unkind after all”, he teased. “Will you not accept ma da’mamae’s gift? Centuries have passed since she has had anyone to dote on. The same is true for those of us newly awakened from Uthenera. It is unfair to think that Abelas has had you all to himself for the past five hundred years”.

He was elbowed in the side too.

“Arryn!” growled Ilcen. “You are too bold!”

A pair of blue eyes glittered with the slyness of a fox. He glanced at Abelas, auburn brows waggling. 

“Am I being too bold?”

Abelas nodded to Ellana.

“What does Mythal say?”

His paramour’s weary shrug spoke volumes. She’d had enough of playing cat and mouse with Valoya. She opened her arms and offered her hands in willing acceptance of the sentinel’s gift. Her eyes rolled in exasperation when Valoya beamed. She handed over the blanket with the eagerness of a child showing off a new toy.

“Now you are being sensible. Good”.

“You don’t need to sound so happy about it”. The way Valoya laughed annoyed Ellana. “Maker’s balls”, she swore. “Flemeth never said anything about babysitting the lot of you”.

Abelas smirked. “You never asked. It would have been prudent considering the responsibilities you accepted”.

“I am not a babe in need of minding!” barked Ilcen.

“You have a habit of calling me Mamae”, retorted Ellana. “What am I if not your minder?”

Ilcen lifted his nose in the air with a haughty sniff. “We have always called Mythal by the proper term of respect for her station. She is the All-Mother and is traditionally called Mamae”.

Ellana snorted. “I don’t like it. I’m young enough to be your daughter”.

“True, but the tradition stands”.

“And if I wanted to change that tradition?”

Abelas snickered. 

Ilcen gaped at Ellana, his eyes wide with horror. “Nae! You cannot!”

“And why not?” challenged Ellana. “If Mythal is the All-Mother and I am Mythal”. She waggled her eyebrows. “I can change traditions as I see fit. And if I don’t want you to call me Mamae. I can tell you not to do it”.

Ilcen scowled. “Would you?”

Ellana giggled. “Nae. I’m not that cruel. I wouldn’t strip you of what few comforts you have. If you must call me Mamae, do so, but do not expect me to be happy about it”.

Abelas grinned from ear to ear when Ilcen glowered at him.

“You could have warned us”.

“About what, ma falon?”

Ilcen nodded to the newest incarnation of their mistress. “About her stubbornness”.

Ellana smiled.

Abelas chuckled. “I did warn you. You chose not to listen”.

Ilcen cursed in elvish while Arryn contemplated something important aloud.

“Mamae. Who is the Maker and why are we discussing his genitals?”

Ellana shook her head in dismay when Valoya patted her on the shoulder. The gesture felt more sympathetic than comforting. “You will get used to being our, Mamae”, Valoya assured her. “In a few thousand years it will be so ordinary you will wonder if we ever knew your first name”.

“Andraste’s arse! Stop calling me that!” snapped Ellana. “I’m too young to be your mother!”

Valoya nodded. “True. I am three thousand years old. My husband is older than me by three hundred years. Abelas is older than both of us by a good fifteen hundred years”.

Ellana reddened. “Fenedhis!” She clutched that second blanket tight to her chest. She was flustered by her lover’s warm secretive smile. “Wait. If Abelas is that much older than me, how much older is Solas?”

“Do you really want to know?” asked Valoya.

Ellana grimaced. “Probably not. Balls. It makes him sound like a lecher”.

Arryn cackled. “The Harellan was around two thousand years old when Arlathan fell. Which was five thousand years ago, give or take a few centuries”.

Ilcen clipped him on the ear. “Venavis!”

“Ow!”

Abelas snorted. “And that was considered young in those days”.

“Are you telling me that Solas is seven thousand years old?” gasped Ellana. She was horrified when Arryn nodded. Ilcen did too, which made the revelation even worse. A nod from Abelas confirmed her fears. An ancient elven codger was in love with her.

Valoya flapped her hand. “He is older than seven thousand years, Mamae. By a few centuries in fact”.

“Maker’s balls!” cursed Ellana. “That doesn’t make it any better!”

“I know, but it is amusing that you like older men”. Valoya gestured to Abelas with a smile. “Ma falon there is older than you by several thousand years too. And you are his lover. I find it reassuring that you prefer bedding one of our own rather than Fen’Harel”.

Ellana blushed when her lover smirked. “You don’t need to look so smug about it”.

“I take pride in pleasing you”.

She rolled her eyes when Arryn asked the inevitable.

“Mamae. Why are you talking about the Maker’s balls, arse, and breath? Is that not rude?”

Ellana buried her face in her blanket and refused to answer.

“Mamae?” called Arryn. He nudged Ilcen in the side. “I think she finds us embarrassing”.

Valoya nodded. “She will get used to our peculiarities in time”.

Ilcen scowled. “I hope she has sense enough not to break our traditions. Mythal has always been called Mamae by the sentinel elves. To think that she would change that on a whim. Ridiculous”.

Abelas snickered when Ellana groaned. He and his brethren felt her annoyance across the sentinel bond. Like a spark to tinder it caught alight and burned feebly before fizzling out. She had never been able to contain her irritation for long. He smiled, heart full, when he heard her giggle.

Consternation gave way to amusement and then forgiveness in the space of a heartbeat.

Ellana looked up from her blanket, cheeks pinks, and eyes glittering with delight.

“You’re all horrible!”

Abelas nodded. “We are. As Valoya has said. You will get used to it”.

He sighed when Ellana threw her blanket at him and the world went dark. It hit him in the face and spilled over his head and shoulders. Abelas couldn’t help but smile. Ellana had lost none of her fire since inheriting Mythal’s responsibilities. She was still very much the woman he loved.

His joy was fleeting when Ellana asked a question that chilled him to the bone. He pulled the blanket from his face, brows furrowing when all conversation ceased. No one said a word, even the voices of the Vir’abelasan were silent. Abelas felt the tension around their circle. Valoya’s teasing smile was gone, Ilcen was scowling, and Arryn was wringing his hands.

Their nervousness was palpable when Ellana repeated her question.

“In the time of Arlathan. Was Mythal married or alone? Was Solas her consort?”

Abelas let the blanket fall into his lap. Its weight was insignificant in comparison to the enormity of what she asked. He swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty. The magic of the sentinel bond compelled him to answer. Valoya, Ilcen, and Arryn kept their silence out of sheer stubbornness. 

They loathed the Dread Wolf’s existence. And while they would have disparaged him, they didn’t want to upset Ellana. She was already entangled in Solas’ schemes. She could do little more than wriggle like a fly caught in a spider’s web. What freedom she had was an illusion.

Solas would reel her in some way, somehow – sooner or later.

Abelas frowned when three pairs of eyes glanced his way. Ilcen inclined his head to Ellana with an impatient nod. He refused to answer her question. Abelas was unsurprised by the brisk shake of Valoya’s head. Arryn was even less helpful when he pouted like an unhappy child.

Abelas took the initiative. He was their leader after all. It had been his responsibility to negotiate with Mythal on their behalf. He turned to Ellana with a half-hearted smile. He felt the weight of her golden eyes that held behind them an age and wisdom that stretched far beyond her years.

Abelas trembled when she arched an eyebrow. He was reminded of another woman that had reigned as Mythal. Ellana was as different from her as light from darkness, but that expression made them the same. Abelas felt the tension across the bond like a slack rope pulling taut fast enough to give him whiplash. He was breathing hard when he countered Ellana’s probing with a question.

“Why do you ask?”

He was ill-prepared for her response.

“I’ve had strange dreams since we left Solas. Dangerous dreams. I don’t know if they’re from Mythal’s past or a portent for the future”.

Abelas felt a chill of foreboding. “What did you dream?”

“I saw myself in a city built out of crystal”, explained Ellana. “It floated in the sky as if by magic. At its heart in a gigantic glass cathedral, on a dais of marble were two thrones. I sat in one, while a stranger sat in the other. At first I thought it was Solas, because his hair was dark”.

“But?” prompted Abelas, as fear sank into the pit of his belly.

“His eyes were green instead of grey. And his face was more angular, his features sharper and more pointed. He smiled at me with a fondness reminiscent of a man in love. Then he took my hand in his, our fingers entwining as he made me a promise. He said he’d come for me, and together we’d restore what Fen’Harel destroyed”.

Valoya gasped. Ilcen cursed. Arryn paled. 

Ellana stared when Abelas sighed. “You know who he is”.

“I do”.

“Well? Tell me his name”.

“The city you dreamt of was Arlathan. The cathedral was the heart of the city, the place where Mythal often held court with her consort. He was a powerful mage, but hot-headed, and prone to brashness. He would have burned Elvhenan to cinders if not for Mythal. She tempered much of his inner-fire, moving him often from vengeance to compassion”.

Ellana exhaled a shaky breath. “You’re talking about Elgar’nan”.

“I am”, confirmed Abelas. “He was Mythal’s husband, while Fen’Harel served as her advisor. Elgar’nan distrusted him, though he kept his silence out of respect for his Queen. She valued Fen’Harel’s counsel as she did his friendship. Elgar’nan was resentful of their closeness in the final days of Arlathan”.

“Why?”

Abelas gestured between them. “Why does Fen’Harel resent me?” He smiled when she reddened. In some ways she was Mythal, and in others she was herself. Ellana had an innocence her predecessor had lacked. 

“Oh”, she said. “Yes, I see. But why I was sitting beside Elgar’nan? Shouldn’t Flemeth have been in my place?”

Abelas shook his head. “Nae. You are Mythal”.

“That doesn’t make any sense”, grumbled Ellana. “I wasn’t born in the time of Arlathan. And Elgar’nan is dead. How could he be aware of my existence? Maybe it was just a dream”.

Abelas was grave. “You are somniari. Your dreams have power”.

“I’m not a seer”.

“No, but you are Mythal. If the spirit of Elgar’nan has somehow found his way into your dreams. He knows who you are. If he said he would come for you. I believe he will”.

“Abelas. What you’re saying is impossible. Isn’t it?”

“I wish that were true. Elgar’nan led the Evanuris. If he could find a way back from death. The others can too. Sleep, Ellana. We must leave at dawn’s first light”.

Ellana frowned. “Fenedhis. You mean to return to the Temple of Mythal”.

“I do”, affirmed Abelas. “We cannot delay. You are in greater danger than you realise. Once we are in the safety of Mythal’s temple. You must dream, and contact Fen’Harel”.


End file.
